


No such thing as a stranger

by DragoJustine



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-28
Updated: 2010-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-15 23:13:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragoJustine/pseuds/DragoJustine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For hilarytamar, who loves the cherry blossoms. Thanks so much to princessofgeeks and miriad</p>
    </blockquote>





	No such thing as a stranger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hilarytamar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilarytamar/gifts).



> For hilarytamar, who loves the cherry blossoms. Thanks so much to princessofgeeks and miriad

There was no way for Jack to get out of the Congressional hearing without paying his dues in small-talk and chit-chat, so it was only a matter of choosing between hearing about Congresscritters' vacation plans or making nice with the IOA delegation. _And which will it be, Mr. Jones, the pit of vipers or the pit of adders?_ Jack wondered. He picked the IOA, and smiled and charmed and dodged political minefields through the halls and out the doors of the Capitol until they peeled away one by one to their cars and he was left with Shen Xiaoyi. 

She was the same as always: impeccably polite, implacably political. Funny thing, though, that he had picked her company over the far less fraught few minutes of how's-the-fishing that would have been required with the Congressmen. For some reason defying rationality she was "us" against the Washington "them." It was because she had been offworld, Jack decided. They ought to stick that in the "Consequences of Joining a Gate Team" training session: _Unavoidable disdain for anyone who has never been farther than eight thousand miles from home._ Put it right in between _complete destruction of circadian rhythm_ and _inability to keep a houseplant alive._

Shen made her last goodbyes and Jack followed the sidewalk off Capitol grounds and heading east. The cherry blossom trees were past peak and on their way down, still filling the city with clouds of pink and white but starting to drop petals at a surprising rate. Jack walked, feeling the sun on the back of his neck and trying to pretend the spring in his step was entirely due to the trees.

Stanton Park was little, generally free of tourists, and most of the time very slightly dingy. Nothing could be genuinely dingy with the trees blooming, though. Jack dodged around the swing set and the little girl throwing handfuls of pink petals into the air and headed for the picnic table with Daniel's laptop bag resting on it. 

Daniel was just beyond, sitting on his jacket and leaning against a tree, long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed casually at the ankle. His jeans were lightly dusted with a few petals, tissue-paper thin. Been here a while, then, from the look of the tiny piles of them on one side of his jacket, like miniature snowdrifts. He was playing with them idly, one-handed, while he read. Knowing Daniel had felt his presence already, Jack craned his neck to see. Journal article; indecipherable small text, black and white photos of metal bowls and knives and rough jewelry, arrows labeling a cutout map of Cambodia. Of course his reading here would be earthbound. 

His fidgeting wasn't, though. Jack watched Daniel's right hand a moment longer, as it smoothed the tiny white mounds and then traced symbols on them, then piled up and smoothed them out again. The shapes were simple and angular. Jack would bet this was the newborn written incarnation of the Unas language. Watching that development -- nudging it along, but Daniel tried hard not to admit to that -- was Daniel's greatest pleasure these days. 

Even completely immersed in his article, Daniel couldn't manage to stay entirely on this planet. The days were long past when his clothing and awkward mannerisms left him seeming out of place in any context on earth. This man sitting in the park now was entirely self-assured, eye-catching in his build and dress, absolutely at home in any circle. Jack was probably the only one who looked at that twitching right hand and saw an uncomfortable alien. 

"You about done staring?" Daniel asked, turning the page without looking up. His free hand lifted from the little snowdrift and gestured across to the empty stretch of jacket next to him.

"Perfectly good bench right there," Jack said. 

"You're getting soft," Daniel said. 

Daniel was still offworld sleeping in a tent as often as not. The reproof in his voice was mild, hardly there at all beside the fond amusement. Four years ago it would have been said with recrimination, another way in to the same fight that sooner or later ruined every moment they managed to set aside together. Only two years ago, they would have both had to change the subject, shy away from the inevitable bitterness, try to pretend Daniel hadn't slipped and said it.

This time, Jack glanced down at himself, considered his uniform, considered Daniel's jacket and the cleanliness of the tree trunk, and sat. He patted his stomach. "Soft as the Pillsbury doughboy," he said. 

Daniel flipped his journal closed. "Soft as a she-mouse's belly?" he asked.

"Soft as a baby's bottom," Jack answered, stretching his legs out, settling in. Daniel's calf rolled to rest against his, unobtrusively. 

"Soft as a government job," Daniel said, the smile present in his voice if not on his face quite yet. He stretched up to the table to stow the book and pull a sack out of his laptop bag. The bag held two plastic wrapped sandwiches, and Daniel handed one over without comment. 

"Mustard?" Jack asked. 

Daniel proffered two tiny mustard packets.

They were silent a while. Jack unwrapped, squeezed mustard, ate. It felt familiar, comforting. Maybe it was better not to draw Daniel's attention off earth, risk raising old fights. Or maybe it was the only way to be sure they really were at ease together again. Jack decided not to overthink. 

"Sitting on the ground with trees and shrink-wrapped food. Feels downright homey," Jack said.

"Food's better."

"But something's missing. Trees and rocks and more trees... I know," Jack said. "There used to be moss."

The smile got to Daniel's eyes as he reached between them to pull aside the lapel of his jacket. 

"Oh look," Jack said. "Moss." 

"Who would have thought, after ending up in a desert the first time..." Daniel said, and trailed off in that way he had, that California tendency to swallow the last half of his sentences, and took a bite. "You were right," he added. "This was nice. The Tidal Basin is a zoo."

Daniel came straight to DC from a two-week stay on a planet with a total population of about six hundred thousand. The cherry blossom festival brought about one million people to DC every year. Daniel would feel more like an alien in crowds, Jack figured, and a person can only stand so much feeling like an alien on the planet that's supposed to be home. 

They both finished eating and Jack started collecting his garbage, the plastic wrap and toothpick from the sandwich, the mustard packets, his napkin. Daniel passed over his own, and Jack balled all the scraps up together and set them down on the jacket between them. The knuckles of his right hand brushed Daniel's left, in the folds of the jacket, and he turned it into a gentle, deliberate caress. 

"Your doorman let me in," said Daniel. "I should go back and get ready for the briefing tomorrow." 

"Other things we could do too," Jack said, and Daniel moved his hand to brush a thumb very deliberately over the inside of Jack's wrist. 

"Teal'c lands in two hours. I need to pick him up, get him to a hotel, go over some things. You should come with us to dinner," Daniel said, in a tone that said _convince me._

"First stop, my place." Jack started to shift his weight, but something was wrong. Daniel didn’t stir, just tipped his head back against the rough bark of the tree and closed his eyes. Across from Jack, Daniel's right hand was playing with those petals again, crumpling them up and rolling them between his fingers, releasing sudden bursts of scent. 

"Hey," Jack said, waiting for it. He'd had four years of being Earthbound, four years to get re-attached to a planet he'd barely realized he was drifting away from (four years to realize you can never quite be entirely home again, but his issues weren't pressing right now). Daniel, for all his insight, never had been able to step far enough back to see his own shit and couldn't be helped until he reached the point of crisis. 

"It's a little bit--" Daniel stopped abruptly this time, unable to articulate, then lifted his had to sketch a gesture at the canopy of pink blossoms. "Do you remember P3M-483?"

The gate had been set in the middle of an ornamental garden, full of wide avenues lined with perfectly spherical, blindingly neon blue trees. Jack nodded.

"I'm not sure if these are any less strange." Daniel closed his eyes, lowered his hand to rub them. "I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense. It's just a thing I-- I get like this when--" A jogger pounded along the dirt trail through the park, and Daniel swerved neatly mid-sentence. "When I've been away too much." 

"Camels," Jack said. 

Daniel shot him a sideways glance, lifted his eyebrows, momentarily surprised out of the spiral that was carrying him away from Jack. 

"We were on P4R-287," Jack said. "The one with the riding ostriches." They had been bizarre and fairly vile animals, with swan necks and two slimy reptile legs and bright purple atrophied wings. Probably the most uncomfortable animals Jack had ever ridden. "And we finally got home and I grabbed a beer, turned on the TV, and it was a documentary about racing camels."

Daniel gave a huff that was almost a laugh, sounding surprised. "Yeah. Like that." 

He always expected to be misunderstood. Jack had never been able to train him out of it; perhaps had trained him into it in the first place. _I may have gotten soft, but I haven't forgotten._ That wasn't the right thing to say. But Daniel was coming to him now, so Jack just waited.

"I asked Landry for some time," Daniel said. "Hosting an old friend for one night is one thing, but I know it causes problems for you to have a man staying with you for any length of time--"

"How long?" Jack asked.

"Three weeks?" Daniel winced a little, as though it sounded unreasonable even to his own ears. He expected to be bargained down. 

"Sounds good to me," Jack said, nonchalant, and some of the tension left Daniel's shoulders. "I'll break out the grill." 

Jack stood, feeling his knees twinge, one hand on the rough tree bark for balance. He grabbed Daniel's hand to haul him up. Daniel stood fluidly, easily, no weight pulling on Jack. His hand was covered in fine dry powder from playing with the cherry blossom petals. It would probably smell good, too. Jack made a mental note to check.

Daniel stooped, grabbed his jacket, shook it out gently. White and pink confetti cascaded off and clung to his jeans. Daniel brushed, then gave a little whatcha-gonna-do shrug and swung the jacket on. "Mostly this stuff makes me want popcorn," he said. 

Jack dropped the wadded-up sandwich wrappers in the trash and brushed a little bark off his hand, letting the curl of anticipation settle in his stomach. "I can provide popcorn," he said, and they headed at a slow amble out of the park.


End file.
